


Break Cake

by HeartlessAngel



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Food, Gen, M/M, Puppy Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 00:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12852702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartlessAngel/pseuds/HeartlessAngel
Summary: Some break bread, Noctis breaks cake.





	Break Cake

* * *

Gladio ate nothing that was good. No pecan pie chocolate cupcakes, no triple red berries mousse cake with brownie crust, no sundaes, not even a Twizzler. Gladio’s food was measured, weighed and studied just like he was once a week at Dr. Ferris’ office. Whatever minerals and vitamins that couldn’t be found in Gladio’s food were made up for with an array of pills that would help him ‘be better.’

“Better what?” Noctis asked once.

Gladio shrugged.

“Better everything.”

But Noctis could see nothing wrong with him. Gladio was faster and stronger than anyone Noctis knew, second smartest, outwitted only by Ignis. Noctis trained to be like Gladio, exercised until exhaustion to be  _ better  _ because Gladio was the best there was at the mere age of fifteen. So, why? Why was Gladio stuck with a rigid menu every day of the year, be there festivities or not?

Birthday after birthday, it was the same. Noctis would be neck-deep in goodies, feasting until it felt like his eyes were gonna pop out, but Gladio didn’t even dignify the feast with a glance, like it was all bean salad to him. This year was no different. Noctis glanced at Gladio from behind a castle of waffles, butter and syrup mixing in the heat, dripping off the edges and onto the colorful scoops of ice cream, sprinkles caught in the small stream of sugary goodness. Gladio stood on guard by the door, uniform spotless, eyes focused on an invisible spot somewhere off the far distance. Noctis had seen what Gladio had had for lunch; there hadn’t been a dessert in sight. It wasn’t right.

Perhaps the Amicitias were cursed or had to exchange one thing for another, become the lineage of Shields in exchange of all things good in the world, like custard-filled donuts with lavender sugar.

Gladio’s eyes did not once wander over to the long table filled with goodies nor to Noctis’ waffle castle. The only explanation? Gladio could fall asleep with his eyes open.

 

Once Noctis was allowed outside, past the age of birthday parties planned by Regis’ party planning committee, away from the Crownsguard and surveillance and walls, he made it a habit to visit food establishments to get better acquainted with all aspects of Insomnian cuisine. Noctis had the suspicion that he was only privy to some of it. 

Gladio was never far away and did his utmost to try to convince Noctis to stay away from ill-boding food trucks with a low rate of success.

“Are you really going to eat that?” became a prevalent question Gladio would ask.

Noctis would stare at him blankly and take a bit off whatever he had gotten his hands on. In a perfect world, they’d share the experience. Noctis just had to keep on searching for that one tempting thing.

“What the hell is that?” Gladio asked one day when Noctis stepped out of a small patisserie.

“These come with six different fillings, one for each god,” Noctis said. He held a small tray with six small domes of pastry of varying glazing and decorations.

“Wow, so we’re shoving blasphemy in there, too. Quite a mouthful, huh?”

“Y’know,” Noctis began and took a large bite off the lilac dome. “Ugh, this is so good. Look at this.” Noctis held the dome for Gladio to see. “Five different layers, not one bigger than the other for the ultimate balance of flavors. It’s like a party in my mouth.”

Gladio chuckled.

“You don’t like parties.”

“It’s a figure of speech. Y’know what you could do,” Noctis took another bite.

“Tread carefully now,” Gladio said, amused.

“You could not be a buzzkill and join me.”

“And undo years of work? No, thanks.”

“So you’re telling me that one bite of this delicious dome,” Noctis held up a teal colored one. “Just one bite will make your belt buckle and vanquish all your muscles where you stand. Have you ever had cake?”

“Yeah. Of course, I have.”

“When?”

“When I turned five. Had a chocobo in the backyard, too. Got a couple of laps in. Great day.”

“Was I there?” Noctis asked, eyes bright at the description that was enough to get his imagination to kick in.

“You were an infant.”

“Wha-” Noctis began, undignified. “What, unlike you at five?”

Gladio laughed.

“What are you getting upset about? You were two years old. And we hadn’t done the whole ceremony thing yet. It’s not like I didn’t invite you on purpose.”

“So that was it? Our once chance to break cake and I wasn’t even invited?”

“I’m pretty sure the saying goes ‘to break bread,’ but yeah, I mean, it’s not like I don’t eat it. I’m just not that fond of it.”

“What do you mean? You’ve eaten cake in recent memory? When?”

“When I’m out on dates or whatever. Women love sweets.”

“ _ I _ love sweets.”

“Right, but we don’t go on dates, do we?”

Noctis pouted. Fair enough, they don’t go on dates. They should, but that’s not something a Prince is meant to say to his Shield. Hell, it’s not what friends say to their friends without risking to uproot the whole relationship and change it into something Noctis most definitely didn’t know how to handle. But to deny Noctis something Gladio would willingly give someone else just because… it wasn’t right.

Unable to put words to any of this, Noctis had no other choice but to stomp out of the situation, pastry domes his only comfort now that Gladio had made it abundantly clear that he had no intention of breaking cake with him.

It took Gladio little to no effort to follow Noctis down the wide street. He tried to get Noctis to look at him, but Noctis turned his head away from Gladio.

“Alright, Noct, listen,” Gladio sighed and grabbed Noctis’ arm to stop him from walking away.

“What?”

“There’s one thing that I’ve been dying to eat that I’m not allowed to because of all the stuff it’s got.”

“Yeah?” Noctis urged Gladio cautiously.

“It’s a big no-no. I’ve wanted it since forever, and one couldn’t hurt, right?”

“The fat chocobo chocolate statue at the Candy Caramel Chop Shop,” Noctis said under his breath. The Holy Grail, the one thing Regis had said no to when asked. It was a monstrosity that was made every year for the winter solstice and it was smashed to pieces every New Year. The bigger the pieces the better the new year.

“Absolutely not the fat chocobo chocolate statue,” Gladio was quick to clarify.

“What then?”

Gladio stepped in closer, looked around, and said in a whisper, “Cup Noodles.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“Cup Noodles. Y’know, noodles, but in a plastic cup and it has that peelable lid and it’s got that little flavor bag for the soup. You must’ve heard of it!”

“I have heard of it, but that’s the big no-no? The thing you’ve wanted to eat since ye high?” Noctis was in disbelief.

“Yeah, and you’re in no position to judge. You’ll be lucky if you’re able to warp-strike at all come next year with your daily visits to every bakery in the kingdom.”

“You’re being a buzzkill again, Gladio. Me, on the other hand, I’m not a buzzkill, so we’re gonna go, and we’re gonna get you that Cup Noodles and enjoy every last drop.”

 

Food made communication easier somehow. The lazy man’s ice breaker; it was more personal than the weather, likes and dislikes said a lot about a person, or at least a person’s compatibility with another. 

Before, when Regis’ conversations with Noctis weren’t interrogations or repetitions of the same, it was, to a great extent, about food. They’d come up with tales and theories of what to expect for dinner as they waited; most theories were based on whether the cooking staff had seemed in a good mood or not, if Regis’ bones ached, what tooth Noctis’ had found to be loose this time. By the time dinner was served, Noctis had told Regis all about his day and hopes for tomorrow without even realizing it. If there was time for dessert, it was a good day. Dessert with sparklers? Those days were gold because they always meant good news, vacation at the summer villa by the lake, dress-up to walk among the commoners, day-long field trips. Then there were  _ those _ days, when duty reared its ugly face in the shape of soup, sprinkled with all that was bad in the world; beans, peas, floaty bits Regis claimed were potatoes, but they dissolved with a mere touch of Noctis’ spoon, and it just wasn’t right.

They had to go to what had become known as the rough parts of Insomnia to find Cup Noodles. It was a product that was imported through less than legal means through the influx immigrants. Cup Noodles was a staple outside the walls, up there with rice and potatoes.

A small bell by the door to the narrow deli made a shrill sound when Noctis and Gladio entered, and Gladio jolted and almost walked back outside had Noctis not grabbed him by the pocket of his track suit.

The man at the cashier, unpacking chewing gum of a brand Noctis hadn’t seen before, looked up at them.

“Hi,” Noctis greeted. “Where do you keep your Cup Noodles?”

“Far back,” the man said and pointed.

“Thanks.”

Noctis dragged Gladio to the wall of Cup Noodles where they were met with cups of at least ten different flavors in an array of sizes. Gladio was dumbstruck.

“So, uh, did you have a flavor or three in mind or?” Noctis asked.

“Yeah, but…” Gladio walked up to the shelves and looked around until he settled on one small cup. And then he did what only a newbie to feasting would do; he turned on it to look at the contents, at all the numbers to begin doing the maths Noctis thought had kept him from breaking cake.

“No, no!” Noctis protested and snagged the cup from Gladio.

“What?”

“Look, we already know it’s not the healthiest thing to eat, right? That’s why it’s on the no-no list, but - but!” Noctis paused when Gladio looked like he was going to interrupt. “We’re here to break cake. This is the substitute. I can tell you right now that the calorie intake of a Cup Noodles - at least this one, let’s not think about the big ones - is nowhere near of the calorie intake of one of the domes I ate before, so you’re well within your margins, so well within margins.”

“Yeah, the calories is not what I was looking at,” Gladio said, holding back a smile at Noctis insisting on them sharing this experience.

“What then?”

“Salt.”

Noctis sighed and shook his head.

“So, one of each? It looks like they have sixteen flavors.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Gladio grinned and chuckled like he’d been told a joke. “I have to get some pineapple juice. Meet me up front.”

 

Noctis’ counter was full of opened Cup Noodles. They had boiled enough water for twice the amount of noodles they had. The directions said that it could’ve been boiled in a microwave, too, but after Noctis’ week of frozen pan pizza a while back, Ignis had revoked his microwave privileges.

“Smells like a noodle shop in here,” Gladio said when Noctis had filled the fifth cup.

“You gotta stir,” Noctis said. “I don’t know what happens if you don’t. Maybe it sticks to the bottom. Like pasta.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about your adventures in the kitchen.”

“Well, then you’ve must’ve heard about my accomplishments, too. I made curry that wasn’t burnt.”

“I heard something about that, too,” Gladio said and ruffled Noctis’ hair.

“I’ve got hot water over here, Gladio!”

“Barely. How long do they have to sit?”

“Four minutes? Three?”

Both leaned in to read off the cup. Three minutes.

“Did you time it?” Noctis asked.

Gladio fiddled with his cellphone to time the noodles.

“This sure takes me back. The whole squadron used to eat this for lunch, and I’d be sat there, with my lunch box and Jared’s meticulous plating.”

“The army fed you Cup Noodles?” Noctis was in awe.

“Toward the end they did, right before the last of it was disbanded. Y’know how it goes. They strangle the funds, make some theater and then conclude that it’s a failed project to call it a day. No one in my squadron complained. It was food from home. Much better than the pasty mash and dried buns of meat they’d get.”

“I don’t know about that… look at this. Are those peas?” Noctis poked at the pea-looking thing that seemed to have caved in on itself.

“Even if they are, you’re gonna eat it, right? You said we’d do this together, peas and all.”

“I was never that specific.”

“Noct,” Gladio laughed, hanging onto him, amused by the look of disgust on Noctis’ face.

“Alright, alright,” Noctis took a deep breath. “This is the blasphemy coming back to bite me, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, The Six unleashed a total of four peas on the count of blasphemy.”

Gladio picked up the first cup, flavored with chicken.

“Do you know how to eat ‘em?” Gladio asked.

“Shove them in your mouth?” Noctis shrugged.

“You pick ‘em up with chopsticks a la Solheim, or, you grab a fork. Bring ‘em up like this, blow and suck.”

“That sounds sexual,” Noctis commented just as Gladio slurped the first of the noodles.

Gladio’s first cough was not enough to counter the soup and noodles confronted with the choked laugh all at once. Gladio put the cup down, coughing with the right amount of force to not choke and to still keep the noodles in his mouth until he got to the sink.

Noctis laughed into the back of his hand as he slapped Gladio’s back to help him out.

“Good gods,” Gladio breathed at last.

“Sorry,” Noctis said, grinning. “You want your pineapple juice?”

“No,” Gladio chuckled. “I don’t think I’ll need it.”

 

Sixteen cups later, they lay on the nice, cold, wooden floor by the sliding doors to the balcony. Gladio had to undo the neat little bow at the front of his pants, Noctis had changed into his sweats halfway through the feast.

“Sixteen might have been a little ambitious,” Noctis said, feeling like his eyes would cross.

“Dr. Ferris is gonna think I’m dying when he gets my blood work next week.”

“If this isn’t out of your system by next week, then you might be. Just drink water. Or that pineapple juice. What’s it for anyway?”

“I thought I had a date with this woman I’ve been seeing.”

“Okay?”

“But I don’t, so… hey, what are you doing tomorrow? After practice.”

“I might visit The Candy Caramel Chop Shop,” Noctis said as casually as he could.

“Cool. Mind if I join? We could break some cake.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Today was fun, so… let’s make it proper.”

“Okay.”

Noctis smiled, heart warm like a freshly made soufflé, joy overflowing like the chocolate of a molten lava cake. Gladio, much like a waffle castle, was part of all things good in this world, and to be in his presence, enveloped in his comforting attention, was just right.


End file.
